〔 제이。〕 a passive, invasive presence grimes every crevice of the room, the darkness she brings along eclipsing his mind, while a familiar and hitched breath is grinding his ears. shudders spill down his back as a velvety touch grazes the fabric of his t-shirt, but when he’s looking behind his shoulder, she’s still feet away from him, reciting the scribbled words written long ago. long ago when they still held a meaning for him. a spectre of the past reaches out to him, calling him back to happier days when they had no worry to burden their young shoulders. he can see it in her eyes, although tired and faded, as they still glint with that captivating light, piercing right into his soul’s core. “ah — this rag? it’s good for sleeping.” strong liquor from the band’s usual stress-relieving evenings lingers on the table, reflecting the dim moonlight spearing the yellowed curtains. he quaffs the glass to the bottom, seeking the quickest way to numb his racing thoughts. “i meant to throw it away, but —”, words come to a sudden halt, knowing deep inside that they’re sure to bloom new wounds into her heart. but what about his? who is the one who left without a warning? chaeyoung. and who is the one who waited in vain? it was him all along.
“when i was thinking most about you, you never came, you never showed up. you never even gave me a sign. it was like nothing even happened. i’ve healed and moved on and of course! here you are. just when i thought i’m finally at peace with myself and with my past. it just had to go like this.” his shame and anger are unveiled through his flurry of sincerity, because there was a time when he was naive enough to open his heart to her and trust those alluring smiles. there was a time when he was a fool, believing those comforting arms would replace the homesick feeling rotting under his skin. but what did he expect? love had been a trivial feeling back home in the states, a thing he could easily play with, drop when he was getting bored and pick back up when there was nothing interesting to catch his eye. “i think you really shouldn’t be here after all. i’m just gonna let you stay over because it’s risky to walk alone at night. i hoarded the couch, why i heard the knock on the door, but…”, constricting his features into a calm expression, he turns around to face her, body and hands slightly leaned against the table, “you can take it. i’ll just go to bed.” glasses or not, his night vision is poor, so the thin frames are immediately removed from the picture, messy, golden hair falling into his eyes. however, his body is not moving from its place, refusing the alert signals of his brain, stiff and stuck just a few inches from her.
the day when they first met suddenly plummets down on him — remembering the shy glances he was occasionally catching from across the table; those dark, interested eyes watching a gleeful jae entertaining the crowd, laughing and joking, setting aside any frivolous differences or rivalries between companies. young boys and girls unaware of what would come once they’d debut, once they’d be forced to give up on their personal lives, build from scratch a new image and only cling to fictitious beliefs that music was to be the essence of their jobs. each pocketed group held a different name and plan back then, but their souls resonated towards one purpose, that of achieving something and feeling like their lives crushed under harsh training had not been wasted. that’s when he met chaeyoung, a foreigner like him, although much more silent, sheltered in a corner behind her older, bolder friends. they exchanged no words, but each time their eyes would meet, he’d feel like everything else was wavering, delayed and irrelevant, jae focusing only on those seconds when he’d briefly lose himself into her gaze. back in the present — the cold tips of his fingers tap at corner of his eyes, faint smile twitching at the corners of his lips. for some reason, he wasn’t wearing any pair that day either.
through english conversations and gentle guitar strings, they grew closer while hardly being aware that the group of people around them was gradually dropping in number. one day — until it was just the two of them. was it them who pushed everyone else away, so that it’d be just jae and chaeyoung, the way their quivering hearts ached for? when looking back, he probably didn’t even care back then if he’d lose contact with his friends, as long as she was by his side; enthralled by her presence, her sweet voice, her feathery touches toppling down his tense shoulders, marks of lipstick left on his pale guitar, tender squeezes between their hands, his long sleeve covering their skins prickled by cold and wind, even drowning her to the wrist inside his pocket so that she’d walk closer to him. and those words. when the schedules were bringing out the worst in him, physically keeping them apart for days, weeks even, when they’d be together, she’d always hoard his sweaters, consequently basked in cloying fragrance to remind him who his heart belong to. falling into playful bicker each and every time that happened, she surprised him one snowy day with the t-shirt he’s wearing right now, promising it’s the only one she’d never wear. silly habit to keep herself etched into every little possession he had, she left her mark on the back of the white fabric, knowing it would last. truly believing it would last. congratulations on your debut, she’d chirp and pull out her guitar, besting him at his own band’s songs. better, simpler days.
“like i said — i’m going to bed now. i’m very tired.” nothing is more frustrating than to feel the fatigue clogging every corner of your body, but your mind is wide-awake, stubbornly keeping you in the moment, exhausted but wary. or is this just an excuse he’s making up unconsciously? of course — every cell inside of him already knows what he wants before he’s even aware of it, and right now, is to wait. to wait and see what she’d do, to wait and discover the true purpose of her visit? is it a fleeting need of self-torture — or perhaps the barrier he thought he was putting up never even existed in the first place, all of his vulnerabilities tattling and exposing him. he gives in, the nighttime is a painful span of time you cannot conquer no matter how hard you try. a pained scoff escapes his chapped lips, sluggish words slurring out his desperate plea: “go away.”
It isn’t simply the choice of his words that stings her – carves a metaphorical blade into her chest and incinerates the breath in her lungs – but it’s the frostiness of his tone that chips at her spirit, waning quickly at five in the morning. her eyes desperately map over his features in a last-ditch attempt to find a sliver of the warmth he once used to exude exclusively and only for her, but her search turns up fruitless. empty, nada. zero. zilch.
❝ a... a rag, huh... ❞ she repeats after him dumbly like a parrot gone numb, tongue rising thickly against her palate. instinctively her body makes to lift her chin to respond, but all movement comes to a harsh, awkward halt. all at once, trepidation courses through her body at the thought of making eye contact with him, because she’s too afraid of affirming through his gaze, as strong as boulders, that he means every word he's currently flinging her way like a battalion of poisonous arrows against soft flesh. because she doesn’t want to ruin the last perfect memory she has of him before they’d parted – all dark eyes and invisible smiles in the deepest parts, words as nebulous as the way the waves lap gently at the shore of chaeyoung's favorite beach, quickly rushing back into the wide embrace of the black sea before she can make out the jagged edges that outline the white foam.
i didn’t want to leave you, she wants to tell him earnestly. desperation courses through her fingertips and bruises her spirit black and blue; they batter her insides violently with the need to be said, to be heard, but her teeth stay clenched and throat tightly sealed as she simply stands rooted to the spot, petrified save for loosely curled fists of stone and a trembling lower lip. she doesn’t blame him for not understanding her circumstances – in an industry as brutal as this one, it’s bone-achingly difficult to keep yourself anchored in the midst of the roaring currents of change; in a sector as tumultuous as this one, where success is determined haphazardly by public favor and recognition, you had to have something to hold on to with your life or risk losing yourself in the process of climbing the ladder to success. and while it’s impossible for her to know who jae’s rock had been, he’d been hers, at the very least.
after all, what is park chaeyoung at a measly nineteen, twenty years of age and only one out of dozens being cherry-picked just to taste even the slightest hint of a chance at debuting, against one of the industry’s giants known as yg entertainment? she still remembers all too clearly when she’d been abruptly told to surrender her mobile device to her manager or else. no questions asked, resistance would result in consequences unimaginable. with a second heart in her throat and a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, she’d done so dutifully – chaeyoung’s never been one to openly rebel. but then there came the second set of even more stringent regulations just three days later: no exiting the building or dorm without managerial supervision, and phone calls were allowed via the manager’s handphone every two days, but strictly only to parents. through excited whispers she’d picked up on as she passed by groups of trainees in the hallways, she’d learned that the fact that she was one out of a only few that was being subjected to such treatment meant that debut was close... but at what cost? in essence, she’d completely disappeared off jae’s radar, and left him hurt and alone. it was a thought that had left her sleepless and hungry for many nights, unable to doze off or stomach any dinner.
and perhaps its the culmination of the pressure that seems to have layered itself atop her frail shoulders and the feverish flurry of hysteria that seems to be rising up the base of her throat, but with one simple command of his, she easily caves and crumbles like the walls of berlin. she feels her throat burn and the breath she has bottled inside of her tear through her lungs, her body aching from his words. scrambling to her senses with saltwater lining her lashes, she manages to muster a broken ❝ i have to go, ❞ before she’s out of the door the next second, quiet sobs wracking her small frame as she runs from him as though his judgement in the wake of her tears would break her.
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